


my make believing (while i'm wide awake)

by timelxrd



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, One Shot, PWP, Plot What Plot, doctor lesbian, first I love yous, soft smut, thasmin, thirteen x yasmin khan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 23:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19896148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelxrd/pseuds/timelxrd
Summary: They were honest utterances murmured under the possibility of finality, the encroach of conflict, words etched in the sand only to be wiped clean by emerging waves, which made their exposure all the more powerful, all the more desperate, all the more gut-wrenching.





	my make believing (while i'm wide awake)

**Author's Note:**

> thank u as per to my wonderful beta @clickofthecollar!!!! and thank u to a certain someone for the prompt and encouragement!!!!!

They were honest utterances murmured under the possibility of finality, the encroach of conflict, words etched in the sand only to be wiped clean by emerging waves, which made their exposure all the more powerful, all the more desperate, all the more gut-wrenching. 

Yaz never expected their first trade of ‘I love you’s to be made under such hurried, desperate circumstances, but now the events have unfolded and they’re perfectly safe again, she doesn’t quite know how to broach the topic at hand. They hadn’t talked on the long hike back to the TARDIS, ready and waiting for an opportunity to be in each other's private presence in the depths of the ship. 

Team TARDIS had been through a whirlwind of emotions in the last twenty-four hours, the transition from near-death to sudden heroics making each member feel a little wiser, a little more grateful, and a little less naive. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much for today, Doc. You saved our lives,  _ again _ . I can only hope one day we’ll be able to repay you for all you’ve done for us,” Graham praises, eyes a touch glossier than usual.

Ryan is hardly any different, too choked up to offer anything other than a winding hug to the quietly overwhelmed Time Lord. 

The whole experience had changed each person, altering their ideas and beliefs enough to keep them from falling into the same trap again. The Doctor hopes, at least. 

“I think you could all do with a good night’s rest. Sleep solves everything — well, not  _ everything _ , but - oh, you know,” the Doctor affirms, moving to lean against the console beside her girlfriend, fingers ghosting over the controls towards their counterparts’. They’re standing close enough to hide the caress of fingertips across knuckles in a silent communication of comfort and reassurance.

Sensing the atmosphere shift between the two women, Graham and Ryan retire to their rooms with weary bids of goodnight, their footsteps echoing in the quiet which follows. 

Only once they’re out of earshot does the Doctor turn her gaze towards Yaz, hearts heavy with apprehension. There’s a gentle smile on her face, as though she’s interacting with a friend for the first time and doesn’t quite know what to do, which expression to pull, how to approach the elephant in the room. She should be happy, she should be jumping about as though a long lost order from Kerblam has finally arrived, but there’s a voice in her head telling her to take a step back, to think the situation through while not distracted by the curve of her girlfriend’s lip. She ignores it. “What a day, huh? You must be exhausted.

“You could say that, yeah. It’s not every day you’re mistaken for criminals and sentenced to torture,” her words are light in tone but hide a flood of genuine relief. She sees the Doctor flinch. “Too soon?”

“Too soon,” the blonde confirms, dropping their joined hands between them to swing loosely in the minimal space available. Standing in close proximity to Yaz is a habit she can’t seem to shake — not that she wants to, of course. After a day like today, however, she only wishes to be even closer, to bury herself in her smell, her taste, her grounding presence. When she draws her gaze into deep pools of brown, she can sense her girlfriend’s thoughts heading in the same direction. “I could’ve lost you today.”

The statement hangs in the air, bouncing off of corrugated gold and crystal pillars and echoing in Yaz’s mind, loud and clear. “But you didn’t. You saved the day, Doctor. You always do,” she counters, reaching up to press a cool palm against her cheek and brush her thumb under old eyes. 

“What about the day I can’t, Ya-” the Doctor starts, words caught behind the tip of Yaz’s finger. 

“Not tonight, Doctor,” Yaz asserts gently, lowering her digit to trace over the pouting jut of her girlfriend’s bottom lip. 

“You said you loved me, just as I found you,” the Doctor declares against the pressure of soft flesh, reeling off the thoughts niggling at her synapses. “And I said it back,” her words almost sound surprised, a shy, slightly bashful tone enveloping her voice which Yaz has rarely encountered. 

The scene replays in her head for the hundredth time in the last hour, the moment delicately framed and pinned up in the gallery behind her pupils. 

_ “Doctor,” Yaz whispers breathlessly, taking the blonde in through disbelieving, stunned eyes. “You’re here.” She’s trembling slightly, but the fear is slowly ebbing away, awestruck affection taking its place.  _

_ The sensation of metal bound around her wrists melts away with the whirr of the Doctor’s sonic, and suddenly it’s as though they’re the only ones left in the dark and musky cell.  _

_ “I’m here, I’ll always be here,” the Doctor murmurs tenderly despite the wave of chaos breaking around their forms like saltwater against battered rocks. There’s a storm brewing outside, but their level gaze creates another of its own. _

_ “I thought they were going to — going to —” Yaz stammers, the brute force of a fist pummelling into her abdomen flashing through her mind. The Doctor had come to the rescue at just the right second, punctual enough to send the door flying into Yaz’s attacker’s frame and send him tumbling to the floor, milliseconds from impact. “But now you’re here and — and —” she pauses, pensive, hopeful, overwhelmed with feelings she’s been keeping safely at bay. “ — I love you.”  _

_ Before Yaz can retract the words, keep them trapped in closed palms and press them back behind the protection of flesh and ribs, the Doctor reaches for her hand, uncurling her fingers and enveloping them with her own. “I love you too.” The utterance is so quiet, so reticent, so earnest that Yaz thinks she might’ve dreamt it up, but the sincere glow to deep hazel eyes casts those thoughts aside. “Now, let’s get a shift on.” _

“I know it’s pretty quick and you’re probably going to go off about me being so young and not thinking properly, but this is the clearest my head has been since we first met. I’m sure about this, Doctor, _ ”  _ Yaz affirms, drawing her back into the present with a flutter of deep brown pools. “It just feels  _ right.  _ Please don’t try to convince me otherwise.”

She’d expected her to be this upfront and determined, vehemence dancing on features the Doctor has mapped out hundreds of times. “I’m not going to try and persuade you otherwise, Yaz,” she breathes a bashful chuckle, reaching up to pry a strand of hair from her eyes. “I just — I wanted to reiterate what I said,” she says, stumbling over the words to explain just how intensely she feels about her. “My hearts — every time you’re near, they won’t stop racing. It  _ hurts  _ sometimes, Yaz, how much they — how much they race for you.” 

The Doctor takes a step closer, closing the distance between them entirely. When she reaches out to rest a hand against her waist, Yaz wets her lips, toes curling in her boots. She’s entranced, her girlfriend’s words hypnotising her into silent shock. As soon as the Doctor fixes her with a heady, captivating glance, she can predict her next movements, her knees growing weak in anticipation. 

The Doctor ghosts her lips against her throat with a hum, eyeing the quickening drumbeat nestled at the edge of her jaw. “You  _ mesmerise me,  _ Yaz.” She punctuates the sentence with a wanton kiss to her pulse point, drawing a sigh from the other woman. 

Yaz can only grasp at her girlfriend’s coat, the console now touching the back of her thighs. She draws her closer, seeking more. The words on her lips are lost when the tip of the Doctor’s tongue swipes across her skin, tasting her, taking her in. 

They’ve been intimate many a time before now, but the recent revelation makes this time different — it’s more passionate, more gentle, more meaningful than ever. Each movement has a purpose. The way she peels dark hair from the curve of her neck so she can drag her kisses further up; the way she catches her eye when her free hand settles at the hem of her maroon t-shirt, inching underneath to span her toned muscles; and the way she smiles adoringly when Yaz leans into her touch, as though she’s happy with her movements, as though she’s  _ pleased  _ that slim hips twitch when she grazes teeth against her pulse. 

Yaz chooses not to argue any more that her girlfriend’s silent praise doesn’t turn her legs to jelly and any thoughts other than writhing beneath the Doctor to dust. 

“I’m infatuated with you,” the blonde purrs against her skin, sliding her leather jacket free from her shoulders with a slow, teasing curl of her fingers. She nudges her nose along her neck to the space just below her ear, where she takes extra care to brush teeth and tongue and apply a little more pressure. Yaz’s breathy gasp is telling of her sensitivity there. 

The dark-haired woman whispers, quick and breathy, when the Doctor, torturously slow, paints her skin crimson. 

“What was that, love?” the Doctor murmurs, albeit distractedly. She rests her forehead against Yaz’s to admire the glowing trail of red she’d left in her wake. 

“Take me to bed,” Yaz whispers, the words heavy with desire. She curses at the knowledge that her girlfriend knows the exact way to wind her up enough to make her dizzy. 

“How can I refuse?” the Doctor retorts, lacing their fingers so she can lead the way up the steps in the direction of her room. 

On the way, she manages to kick her boots off and shrug her coat from her shoulders without any of her usual awkward stumblings. Yaz nudges the door to her room open and heads inside, locking the door after them both. When she turns around, the Doctor is stood next to the bed, hands clasped in front of her and toes curled in fluffy blue socks. Without her boots and coat, she looks a lot more petite and a whole lot more adorable, lips curling into a coy smile, dusted with love. 

They undress each other item by item until the Doctor is left in her beloved socks and a pair of grey underwear, dotted with tiny hearts. Her desire is self-evident against the material, earning a pleased hum from her counterpart, who brandishes a pair of deep red, laced underwear which hugs her in just the right ways to leave the Doctor more than a little in awe. 

“I don’t think any star could ever match up to the way you glow, Yaz,” the Doctor croons, taking Yaz’s hand and stepping back towards the bed. Climbing on, she directs Yaz to the spot beside her, into which Yaz lays back, blinking shyly up at her. 

“You can’t mean that,” Yaz rebukes, a disbelieving laugh falling from softly smiling lips. “You’ve seen so many. More than anyone,” she adds, reaching up to dance her fingertips over her jaw, then down her neck to her chest, palm flattening against twin thumps. 

“And yet none of them compare to you, I promise,” the Doctor shuffles, settling on her side and propped up on one elbow. “You’re a whole other constellation of beauty, Yasmin Khan.” She leans in, noses bumping together before their lips meet in a practised waltz of passion and heat, the new addition of love giving way to soft moans and gasps in a matter of minutes. 

Yaz’s bottom lip caught between perfect teeth, the Doctor hums a low noise, hands drifting, attention splitting. She ghosts her naturally warm fingertips over sensitive nipples, caressing and circling the buds lazily, all the time in the universe slowing her movements so she can appreciate the sounds and reactions she elicits. 

When the kiss breaks so Yaz can pant softly into the stars cast above, the Doctor ducks her head to capture a hardening nipple between her lips, slipping a leg between her own when Yaz’s hips start to twitch and roll languidly. “You’re divine, in all meanings of the word,” she whispers between sucks and laps at the dark flesh, eyes scanning her features. She downright  _ purrs  _ when Yaz curls the fingers of one hand into her blonde locks, nails scratching gently against her scalp, just where she likes it most. A faint tug when she bites down playfully sends heat sizzling to her centre on a crash course for desperate release, but she lets it simmer for now, enjoying the twitch of muscles against her thigh and the ghosts of sighs melting against her hairline. 

“You’re so good, Doctor,” Yaz hums, meeting her gaze when the Doctor begins paying the same attention to her other breast, her expression absolutely smitten. It melts Yaz’s heart to witness this side of her — the side which seems entirely content to wax lyrical about her while she worships her. She catches herself blushing, bordering on self-conscious about the way she’s gazing at her as though she’s the most beautiful being in existence. 

Yaz’s praise only heightens the passion burning behind her hazel eyes, leaving her hips to shuck needily against her thigh for a brief few seconds. She’s well aware that Yaz has acknowledged her weakness to comments like that, so she shoots her a playful little smirk around her stiffened peak. “I know.”

Yaz can’t stop the breathy laugh her girlfriend elicits, though it breaks into a moan when teeth enclose around a nipple and tug briefly. The resulting sting encourages a shiver to roll down her spine and undulate her hips, so she rewards the Time Lord with another pull of blonde locks. 

Wandering hands circle Yaz’s stomach before drifting over the material of her underwear, where silky red meets slightly damp crimson. Her hips raise to chase the contact, a moan falling from parted lips when she cups her gently, fingertips applying pressure where she needs it most. She curses the barrier of her underwear, lifting her hips in encouragement. “Mmmf - justtakethemoff, please.”

Surprisingly, the Doctor doesn’t waste time teasing, curling her fingers into the waistband and drawing them over smooth curves in a flourish of movement. “Anything for you, Yaz,”

Her touch disappears, as does the attention to her chest, but Yaz isn’t left in the dark for long when hot breaths cascade like thick raindrops in summer against her core, a shiver rocking her form. “Please,” she whispers, heat flooding to the apex of her thighs when she glances down to find the Doctor taking her in with blazing hazel eyes. 

“Honestly,  _ I  _ should be the one saying ‘please’ here,” the Doctor croons, admiring her like a selection of the ripest, freshest of fruits, and indeed, when she leans in to lap a line through the length of her, she’s full of flavour. The cry of her name and the following tug of her hair she draws from her is enough of a reward to continue, lapping and swirling her tongue against her clit with enough pressure to make her tremble. 

“Just like that,” Yaz praises, lifting her knees and parting her legs further, her free hand fisting in the sheets. “More, please. You’re so good,” she repeats, sweat building between her brows and along her upper lip. Her stomach muscles jump when her girlfriend dips her tongue past her entrance, to be followed swiftly by curious digits. 

The Doctor nestles a finger within her with ease, curling and crooking and pumping the digit while she mouths at her clit, tongue flicking against extremely responsive nerves. Judging by the increasing grip in her hair, it won’t take long for her to fall apart beneath her, so she adds a second digit to the mix, curling both to brush against sensitive walls. “I love you,” she mumbles against her flesh, eyes suddenly brimming with emotion. She’s smiling against her, though, especially when dark brown meets hazel once more. 

The sight alone is too overwhelming for Yaz, her lips parting on a cry when the blonde nestled between her legs doubles her efforts and groans against her, the sound vibrating against hot, slick bundles of nerves. She’s teetering right on the edge when the Doctor’s utterance of love repeats on a loop in her brain, and only then does she remember her girlfriend’s mention of touch telepathy a week or so prior. “Say it again,  _ please.  _ Just one more time.”

The Doctor sighs against her, upping the pace of her thrusts while she sucks and nips at her clit, her scent filling her senses and sending sparks towards her own core. “I love you, Yasmin Khan.”

“I’m — I’m going to —” Yaz gasps for air, hips grinding and shucking against the Doctor’s purchase on her clit. Her toes curl and she crests, back arching in a perfect bow while stars burst behind her eyes. There’s a muffled noise filling her head, and only when she comes back around, bliss still curling her toes, does she realise it’s the Doctor’s murmurings of love and affection. 

“I’ve got you, you’re so good. You’re incredible,” the Doctor muffles her words against the heat between her thighs, lapping her up before she complains of oversensitivity. She shuffles up beside her again, drawing lazy circles against her hip while she watches her relax back into the sheets. Her thighs are still quivering, tiny aftershocks riddling her nerves. “How was that, love?”

Yaz gets her breathing back down to an acceptable level before she turns her head, capturing her girlfriend’s lips in a kiss. “That was perfect. You’re perfect.”

“I’d say that’s impossible, Yaz, but you’re here as proof, so…” the Doctor purrs, scrawling her name across her hip with her fingertip as if to label it as her own. 

“I love you,” Yaz whispers, lifting fingertips to her chin, wiping up the residue of herself and slipping it past her lips curiously. The Doctor’s pupils darken considerably so she moans around her digits, lashes fluttering. 

The Doctor is riled up, to say the least, so her gaze is set intently on the digits disappearing behind her full lips, followed by shallow moans. Her hips kick against her side, where she’s still curled around one of her legs. 

“I think you deserve a reward for today, don’t you think?” Yaz croons, tilting her head in question. When the Doctor nods, quick and needy, she turns onto her side, hands falling against her chest to caress and explore just as the Doctor did prior. 

“Please,” the Doctor pleads, eyes closed, head tilted back, her forearm cast over her forehead like some ancient renaissance painting. Yaz is awestruck. 

Her hips twitch when Yaz flicks her fingertip over an already swollen bud, a gasp rattling her form. “I’m - I’m not going to last long, at this rate — I’m sorry,” she admits, shy and soft. It makes Yaz’s heart swell to see her so vulnerable like this.

When wandering digits find their way to the dark patch of grey underwear, both women gasp. 

“Look at you, so ready for me. You’re so good, love,” Yaz breathes, her words only adding to the fire slowly brewing beneath her fingertips, spitting out burning wisps of heat into the soft caress of fingertips. 

The Doctor whines softly, each featherlight touch against her enough to have her squirming with need. Yaz carries on nevertheless, slipping beneath the material to ghost her fingertips over her swollen clit and press her thumb hard against her engorged bud. Delicate and slow, she starts drawing circles against her with enough pressure to make her gasp and tremble, but keep her on the edge for as long as possible. 

“Please, please,  _ please, Yaz.  _ I want you inside me. I want to feel you,” the dishevelled, writhing Time Lord begs, thighs parting invitingly. When she feels the slow pressure of a digit against her core, she cries out, hips arching to take more of her in, to encourage her, while Yaz’s name is spelt out repeatedly against her clit. It’s too much and yet not enough, moisture building in the corners of hazel pools when she observes Yaz’s movements as though she’s the only being in the universe who matters. When she finally curls a finger inside her, encouraging a slow roll of her hips, the Doctor reaches out, tipping up Yaz’s chin and dragging her into an all-consuming kiss. A stray tear tumbles down her cheek, but she’s smiling against her lips, overwhelmed by sensations and feelings in the best possible way.

When tears spill onto her counterparts full lips, Yaz pulls back in surprise, movements stilling, heart beginning to race. “Are you - are you crying, love? Did I do something? Oh, god. What have I done? Do you want me to stop?” She panics, her touch inching away until strong hands press them back into place, firm and assured. 

The Doctor meets her gaze through blurry vision, a dopey, adoring smile painting her lips. “No! Never. I just — gods, I really love you,” she whispers, cheeks aflame, eyes imploring. She rocks up into Yaz’s fingers when they suddenly pick up their pace, another two digits easily joining the first. 

Yaz levels her gaze with renewed vigour, her own pupils glistening. Meeting each tear with a kiss, she slows down her movements, thrusting deep and gradual so she can take her time to observe the way her features change. One well-angled thrust, in particular, leaves the Doctor clinging to her forearm, nails dragging deliciously along her skin. 

“Just there, please. Ohmygodrightthere,” the blonde pleads, toned thighs jumping, her whole body squirming and winding up to glorious transcendence. “I’m so — Yaz, Yaz…” she all but slurs, lost in waves of bliss with only Yaz’s name on her mind. She scrambles for purchase on her shoulder when her ministrations become almost too much, Time Lord biology allowing for heightened senses in such a scenario as this. Yaz is treating her like a prized possession, touching and caressing with such reverence that the Doctor thinks she might burn and crash and never return from this secret piece of heaven she’s found. 

“I love you,” Yaz whispers into the shell of her ear, encouraging another shower of tears down damp, pink cheeks. That’s all it takes for the Doctor to fall apart at her fingertips, walls hugging her digits and nails dragging harshly down her back from her shoulder. She trembles and shakes through her release, mumbling nonsensical words amidst cries of her name. Yaz can only presume it’s her native tongue slipping through, but either way, it’s music to her ears, a ballad she’ll never tire of. 

The Doctor is trembling like a leaf in the breeze when she starts to see through the stars clouding her vision, met with adoring, affectionate brown eyes and a tender smile. Yaz wipes away the remainders of her tears with a flurry of delicate kisses, arms encircling her form and fingertips dancing along her side in a slow waltz. 

The blonde shifts, curling closer, settling her head on Yaz’s chest while her eyes give way to emotional exhaustion. Her nose is scrunched against her sternum, shallow breaths falling on marked skin and tickling her counterpart. “Mmf — love you, Yaz,”

Yaz’s laughter jostles the Time Lord wrapped around her, who blinks up in surprise before talented fingers curl through her hair, scratching gently at her scalp to help enduce her drowsiness again. “I love you too, you beautiful idiot,”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading!!! feedback is always appreciated !!


End file.
